


PLUME

by Shiverstyx (LittleEars)



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Horror, Canon Compliant, Cardiophilia, Comeplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Teasing, Teratophilia, dubcon for alternate forms of communication, fingies in mouth, horny bird seeks shiny, kinda sex pollen-y, smokeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleEars/pseuds/Shiverstyx
Summary: Since their last few encounters, Hermes has been left wondering what shift has occurred in their relationship to have made Charon start keeping such a distance from the Olympian. He decides to visit Charon with the intent to find out.Mostly porn, with some plot and a lot of questionably-placed one-liners.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 112





	PLUME

**Author's Note:**

> I made it out of Tartarus with my last fic but I’ve been stuck with the heat in Asphodel since then, so here’s what my brain cooked up over the lava. I’ve been wanting to write a first time fic for these two since I first fell into their strategically-placed pitfall, but of course the weird AU (my other fic, Shift) had to crawl out first.
> 
> Enjoy! 😊

Hermes hadn't put his finger on it yet, but something was causing a wave in his and Charon's ability to communicate. Just the most recent few times they'd interacted, punctuated by the strange manner in which Charon seemed to keep Hermes at a distance lately. 

They'd been working together for so long now - long enough that Hermes had to hesitate before being sure of the number - and despite a rocky beginning where Hermes only seemed to be able to annoy Charon, he felt they'd moved into a working relationship that felt easy and familiar. The routine of their work kept them each busy enough, and Hermes found that Charon was easy to understand if one only paid attention. 

But now, he has difficulty even discerning the reason for Charon's sudden aloofness. Every time lately that he's handed off a fresh batch of souls to be escorted down the river, Charon doesn't react to his ridiculous jabs or try to stop any of his antics. He can't even seem to face his companion when he leaves.

Hermes is sure that Charon would be unwilling to have a discussion in front of other shades about his sudden change in behavior, whatever might be wrong. So, he decides to arrange a private business meeting between the two.

Since he's also the messenger, he simply shows up when he knows Charon won't be busy.

Hermes watches the boatman, alone in his Erebus hoard except for the little peeping bird behind him. The god sweeps in without a sound, fluttering to a pause to observe the dark shape of his fellow associate from behind a gilded pillar. 

Charon's hunched form shuffles around the edges of the room, strong arms pulling apart piles of golden obols, glimmering gems, and boons emanating olympian light. Searching for something, even upturning an overflowing urn and emptying its contents to peer inside. No mind is paid to the obols rolling off the platform and plunking into the river, as whatever he's after is being given his singular focus. 

Hermes flits up to a higher viewpoint, barely containing his godly glow in the shadows above the candlelit chamber, but quick enough to escape anyone's notice, as he's proven hundreds of times. He stalks the length of the room, silently tiptoeing across the air and watching Charon move to a new pile to continue his search at the bottom of an embroidered sack. 

With his head practically inside the thing, Hermes sees his best chance. He zips down to Charon's level before the boatman can take notice, a stray feather left in his wake and drifting slowly down after him. He leans into the loose cloud of smoke pouring from the mouth of the bag, enjoying the warm and pleasant scent of spices and lavender, before rocking back on his heels. 

He's only left unacknowledged for a moment, long enough to be curious about just what it is Charon is after and hoping he will be able to find whatever it is. It's forgotten in the next passing second.

A pleasant smile plays on his face when Charon emerges and looks at him, at first giving him an unimpressed look - the result of many such meetings - before seeming to actually notice Hermes, his ghoulish expression widening in silent horror for only a scrambling moment until he finds his hat and stuffs it back on, immediately ducking behind its brim as he stands straight up. 

"H-hhheeeeooooo…" 

As it turns out, hiding does Charon no good, as Hermes is short enough to stroll right through the plume left in Charon's retreat and into his darkened space, and he does.

"Okay, first of all, how do you kneel on the floor with those robes and not get all dusty somehow?" He starts, hand on his chin as he looks down at the shining fabric. "You really keep your hoard that immaculate, shine every obol that passes your hand, polish every gem, not a speck of dust to be found. I don't think any of the olympians are nearly so fastidious as this." He finally looks up, feeling warm with mischief as he meets Charon's eyes conspiratorially, and whispers, "You should see Aprhrodite's room, especially. Nothing like you might imagine. Or maybe…." He pauses, laughs, waving his hand a little as if to brush the thoughts and heat away. "Sorry, I'm already gossiping and that's not even what I came here to do! Hello, by the way."

Hermes leans in a little, as always, drawn in by something the boatman exudes that he can't quite grasp. A fluttering awakens in his chest, tickling like a feather and beating like the powerful flap of a wing. "Still, always so well put together…" He raises his hand to smooth out some imaginary wrinkle in the perfect waterfall of Charon's robes. 

Charon moves back sharply enough to make his collar of obols clink and rattle against each other as they sway. Hermes just raises an eyebrow, only internally scrambling to figure out why the possibility of his touch is suddenly causing such a reaction. He was sure, by the warmth beneath his palms and the way Charon had leaned into his hands, many times before, that the cthonic god he'd come to know was enjoying their ever-increasing closeness. Maybe he'd been reading Charon wrong after all.

Surely there was some way to ease Charon into the comfort of his touch, in some manner that read as more professional than personal. Hermes thinks of the businesslike way mortals grasp each other by the forearm in greeting, a gesture equal parts friendly and laced with wary suspicion. When he thinks of doing the same to Charon - uselessly, for what point was there in one god checking another for a concealed weapon - the idea of wrapping his fingers around the surely-strong ferryman's arm set his face aflame with heat in a way that was distinctly unbusinesslike.

So, no. No way to do this professionally, unfortunately. 

Before the other can get a read on his confusion, Hermes shrugs and drops down to the floor, leaning back onto a few sacks of obols as nonchalantly as possible and stretching across the glittering coins. "You already looked in this pile, right?" He looks back up, catching Charon's drawn-out confusion, and pops another smile. "Don't worry so much, boss, I'm just here to talk a little business with you. One professional to another. You can continue your search without minding me, I promise to make it quick."

Charon does look a little relieved, and crouches down near Hermes' ankles to resume looking, although now with less fervor. And less attention in general, Hermes noting the frequency with which his gaze is distracted away from his work by the tapping of Hermes' foot, or the fluttering of his feathers.

It's easy for Hermes, being a distraction. He always was talented in the art of misdirection, could draw the eye as easily as a master artist. Lying just so, hands falling to rest wherever they might jingle obols for extra attention, chiton subtly arranged around his form... 

...and still, Charon resists the usual pull. He doesn't swat at Hermes' bouncing foot, usher him up from lounging over the hoard, or put out his hand to take the obol rolling across Hermes' fingers. He just keeps sifting through the pile, attention still divided, but firmly keeping himself from paying Hermes any mind.

"You know, boss, we've been working together for quite some time now," Hermes starts, stretching out just a little more. "And I feel like we know each other...pretty well by now, I would say. But I do feel like we could be...closer." He pauses, tilting his head a little to catch Charon's eye, although the other man is pointedly avoiding looking at him for the moment. "...as associates, of course." He clarifies, smiling mostly to himself. 

"I feel like it might be necessary to explore a more, ah...personal avenue of activities, as a way of expanding our professional relationship." He tracks Charon's eyes slowly returning, again pulled in by Hermes' undeniable gravity. "You know, like a team-building exercise. To improve morale, bring a refreshing perspective to each of our roles." Still watching. Hermes uncrosses his ankles.

"What do you think, Boss?" Hermes, ever-teasing, watching the other god's gaze follow his leg as he eases it off of the platform. He lets the skirt of his chiton ride just a little higher, his thigh turn to bring attention to the band snug around it, enjoying the way Charon's plume of smoke thins out as he watches. Slowly tilting his ankle closer to the water, Hermes coos, "Should we...take a dip?"

He means it to be sensual and intriguing, but only halfway feels like he's failed once he feels Charon's strong grip suddenly around his calf, keeping even the tips of his feathers from the river's surface. The boatman's serious look and firm hold let Hermes know that his suggestion is absolutely not advisable. Olympian grin gleaming, Hermes lets the weight of his leg drop comfortably into Charon's palm as he continues, defeat feeling strangely like victory as he watches Charon's expression change.

He feels...emboldened. More than usual, even. Something thrums just beneath his skin, making it feel wind-whipped like after one of a thousand sprints through the stinging rain. He pops up onto his elbows, hands near his belt and still fiddling with the coin. "Alright, not exactly a refreshing spot for swimming, I get the idea. Another time, another place. We can continue to act in a professional manner only for the time being. I'll even help you continue your search!"

Charon is still wearing a strange expression, somewhere between stern, utterly confused, and nervous, as Hermes looks over the pile and the obol still in his hand. "It can't be one of these, right? As far as I know every one of them is exactly the same, but maybe one of them is special...how do you tell which are different? You know mortals bite them to see if they're real?"

Hermes lifts the obol to his mouth to demonstrate, but before he bites down, the platform is moving from under him, scattering obols into the river as he's dragged forward by his calf. Charon's other hand grips his own tightly, keeping the obol just out of each of his lips, and the dark form of the ferryman of the dead hovers over him, eyes brighter than they've ever been with no smoke to obscure them.

Hermes, ever a trickster, takes advantage of the moment and tries to snap at the coin, earning a growl and a push from Charon, something much more familiar than the forced distance he'd been subjecting them both to. 

"Hhhrrrrraahhh..." Charon's grip on his leg shifts, and he rests it across his lap to pet gently at the feathers of Hermes's ankle, like soothing a frightened animal. His feathers quiver at the attention, even those at his crown affected.

Mortified and delighted at once, headfeathers ruffling, Hermes pushes back, forcing a rattling breath to puff out of Charon's open mouth and right over him.

Hermes feels almost dazed by the smoke, overcome with heat and awareness. The scraping of the platform and the obols on the backs of his thighs. Charon's warm, strong grip on his calf and his wrists. The smooth fabric of Charon's robes pooling over his leg. His own chiton, hiked up in the back and tight at the front, proudly displaying his erection.

_Well, um_ , he thinks.

"Well, um," he manages, feeling warm all over, feeling like he has a honeyed date stuck in his throat, like he was so eager for sweetness he'd tried to swallow it whole. 

Embarrassed? Confused? These are rare feelings for a god, an olympian, and Hermes especially. He looks at Charon, who looks like he's experiencing something similar.

"...mortals, huh, what do they know anyway?" He wriggles his hands a little, successfully freed from the stunned boatman's grasp a moment later. All insecurities roll away, like his head is cleared.

Curious, Hermes leans into Charon's space again, who freezes in place. Hermes stops. "Charon, if this is an arrangement you would have any objection to, I will need to know as soon as you are able to come to a decision. I'd like to emphasize that I regard the matter of efficiency very highly, and-" 

A plume of smoke escapes Charon's mouth as he chuckles, brushing over Hermes's lips and breathed in easily. A lightness grows in his chest, and he feels amusement and some relief.

Realization strikes him, clearing the foggy thoughts. 

Hermes pushes the rest of his way into the boatman's lap, coins scattering, and presses his mouth to Charon's, barely kissing, letting his lips drag over teeth as he breathes Charon's warmth as deep as his body will allow. He tastes that relief, and joy, and the heat from before. Charon's hands grip his thighs, holding him firmly in place even as he leans out of Charon's space a little, hands resting at the sides of his neck.

"So that's how you do it!" He exclaims, some of his headfeathers giving a little twitch as smoke pours out of his mouth. Charon exhales, and Hermes feels relief and admiration and worry in it. "It's your smoke! Fates sure gave you an interesting way of communicating. I see now. And that's why you didn't want me so close. I suppose I can understand...but really, I don't mind if it's so...influential." 

He pauses, rolling the words over in this mind as Charon regards him, both serious and incredulous, "It just feels like understanding you. And that's all I want to do. I don't think knowing what you're feeling could make me do anything I didn't already want to do. Speaking of…"

Hermes rolls in Charon's lap, allowing the powerful grip of hands on his thighs to hold him steady as he stretches up and back. The fabric at the front of his chiton lifts just so, both a tease and a slight relief, based on the other's reaction alone. 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think this is something both of us have been looking forward to for a while. It's certainly an arrangement I'm more than happy to explore with you professionally," he adds, leaning back into the other god's space.

Charon's hands slide upward to Hermes' hips, gripping tighter as he groans his assent directly to Hermes' lips, some kisses soothing like cool hands drawn to a warm fire, some burning like he'd accidentally leaned too far in. 

Hermes breathes every kiss deep, savoring the way each swirls and burns within him, the passing of something hot and sparking from one body to another.

The boatman's hands roam upward, previous stiffness dissipated and desire untethered now that Hermes had pushed through any final barrier of doubt. Rivers are familiar to him, easy to navigate if you went along with them instead of fighting the natural flow. Now, he seems happy to ride the rush, touching where he likes and clearly pleased with the reactions they pull.

The flow takes his hands upwards further, wrapping around Hermes's shoulders to slip under the back of his chiton, then down again, trailing across rippled planes of fabric and skimming lightly against the skin of strong thighs, warm and bronzed like the coins he so prized.

Hermes, now near panting, leans back again to watch the splay of ashen fingers across his bared thighs. Charon pushes a thumb underneath the band wrapped around his left thigh, pulling it away to reveal the pink line underneath. 

After a brief pause, breath thinning, he keeps pulling. Opening Hermes' thighs for him.

The olympian swallows hard, face burning.

Hermes lifts his head to meet the boatman's eyes, burning as they watch him. Charon's grip turns tight, hand wrapping around the top to rest just at the line where ass met thigh, thumb still tangled in the band, and the other actually grabbing a handful of him, pulling him forward the rest of the way into Charon's waiting lap. 

A bubbling laugh escapes Hermes, always surprised at how insistent the quiet boatman could be once he'd set his mind on something. That Hermes could be on the receiving end of this kind of attention fills him with immense joy. "Don't worry boss, I'm not about to fly off anywhere else for the moment. My schedule is totally clear."

Charon eyes him a little, wary of the promise but clearly not willing to stop just yet either way. Hermes' smile turns a little guilty, and he relents. "Okay, so not entirely clear, mind you, but I can promise with one hundred percent certainty that I won't be late."

He leans in and gives Charon a short peck at the corner of his mouth, perhaps feeling his own mischief coming out again. To punctuate his desire to stay, he rolls his hips forward and down into Charon's lap, trapping his covered length between them and dragging upward slowly, maintaining eye contact with Charon's steady violet gaze.

This time, as he grinds down again, both the hands on him fly to his hips to hold him back. Unable to help himself, Hermes whines, getting desperate to feel more of the boatman, ready to see the body hidden beneath his dark robes, to feel the Charon's hardened length against his own or pressed to his inner thigh.

Charon has something else in mind, clearly enjoying watching Hermes' struggle to hold himself back and not quite ready to unleash him. His eyes are trained downward again, watching the growing wet spot on the skirt of his chiton, right at the head of Hermes' cock. 

Using one hand to hold Hermes in place - rather effectively, even - Charon draws lines on Hermes' inner thigh with his fingers and lets the palm of his hand ghost over Hermes' erection, pulling it away with something like amusement in his expression whenever the olympian's hips try to grind forward into his touch.

A few of these teasing touches have Hermes practically writhing in his lap, head lilting forward until he's whining directly into the crook of Charon's neck, breath hot, pressing sweet "please"s and "I want"s there with his lips.

Charon finally submits to the pleas filling the smoke between them, pressing his hand forward and encouraging Hermes to grind into his palm with his other hand at the small of his back. 

The smaller god ruts forward, but doesn't get far before Charon is pushing him back again, drawing out another whine. Teasing and testing, palm passing smoothly over only the sensitive head of his cock with alternating roughness, dragging wetness across the inside of his skirt to spread it further.

"Ch-Charon…" he bleats out, grip tight on broad shoulders to keep himself grounded, "You're absolutely torturing me here, boss...I know that's part of some job descriptions here, but I didn't think -- ah! -- didn't think that would extend to, you know, these kinds of…. activities…"

The corner of Charon's mouth seems to lift in a smirk as he blows a gentle breath over Hermes' cheek with a quiet "Hrrooooouhhhh," drawing back a little from teasing. Instead, he grips Hermes' entire length in his hand, wrapping it in the wet cloth of his skirt and giving him a testing squeeze.

Hermes gasps and swallows a mouthful of smoke, hot and sparkling in his lungs as he feels the hot throb of his own ichor pulse against Charon's palm.

The light-footed god is grateful when his companion finally seems ready to pick up the pace, bunching the fabric teasingly before flipping up the skirt of his chiton with little fanfare or hesitation. 

The motion finally reveals Hermes' dribbling cock, wetness coating his length in shining rivulets. Charon's hand wraps around him, thumb pressing close to the slit and drawing out pearls of precome to spread over his quivering cock. Hermes' own hands grip tighter, one steading himself using Charon's thigh, and the other wound into the robe at his shoulder.

The direct touch finally has Hermes sighing with relief, and laughing with amused pleasure at the antics of his gold-coveting boatman. 

"Is this what you were looking for, boss?" He teases, barely restraining himself from pushing his length into Charon's grip. "I'm afraid you won't find anything like this in a pile of obols."

As if just to prove him wrong, Charon responds by pushing Hermes back into the sacks of obols behind him, easily pinning him under the dark curtain of his robes and the rough mouth at his neck, each kiss a grind of cooling embers into his throat, leaving light burn marks instead of the usual bruising from tongue and teeth. The sensation only fuels his heat. 

The hand wound into the band on his leg pulls away roughly before letting it go with a loud SNAP against his thigh, pushing a groan out of Hermes' throat to echo into the room above them. Forced to lie back on the obols, Hermes can't see the way the tip of his cock rocks in and out of view through the hole made by Charon's fist, but he can feel the slide of every ring, and the way the grip around him tightens at the end of every stroke. 

Kept down by Charon's hand on his shoulder, Hermes can only pull the robes in his grip to urge the boatman's mouth higher, until his smoky laugh is pouring over Hermes' lips. He grabs at Charon's face and breathes him in, bucking into his hand.

The nebulous plume pooling within him churns his desire, and Hermes feels overcome with a need to see Charon this way. To have his partner writhing beneath him in pleasure, half-drunk on the feeling alone, to have Charon's grateful moans filling the room around them and his hand pressed to Hermes' quivering feathers.

"That's...oh that's...lovely…" he mumbles mostly to himself, head getting lighter. A shudder ripples through him, heat flooding between his legs, and Hermes almost comes. The speedy little god prides himself on being quick, but not like this. He reaches between them and grabs for the base of his cock, stopping his impending orgasm and letting Charon's pace slow and grip fade. 

"Nn...n-not just yet…" he breathes, the exhale of smoke filling their private little space again as he relaxes into the coins behind him with a shudder, cock still twitching against both their hands. Feathers curl around his head to cool down, blocking their gaze for a few panting moments.

A light touch pets at the quivering wings, running down Hermes' neck and then back up to find the line of his jaw. Wings part to reveal Charon, still smiling down at him like he belongs right there with the pile of treasure.

Still, for Hermes, it was Charon who seemed so singularly brilliant as something found among gemstones.

He pulls at Charon's golden collar quick enough to get to draw his fingers through the string, untying it effortlessly as the other only watches. The boatman's grip takes Hermes' wrists and pins his hands to his chest, keeping him from pushing the collar carelessly to the floor in his hurry. He gives a warning look before releasing Hermes to ease the collar off himself, setting it gently around the neck of a faceless obsidian bust. 

Once finished, he leans forward and presses Hermes' hands to the dark fabric of his robes, welcoming him back to part them away from his body at whatever pace he pleases. Hermes laughs, though doesn't hesitate to push the offending clothing off of his associate's shoulders with practiced ease.

"Okay, right, I can see why you'd want to preserve such a mark of your character as your impressive collar, boss. I'll be more careful next time, I promise." He winks, sitting up to press a kiss to Charon's mouth as the fabric falls around him.

His desire to see Charon overcomes him, and Hermes looks down at the bright violet glow emanating from the body before him.

Hermes stares. In awe of the form holding him, feeling each of Charon's measured, even breaths as he allows Hermes to look. His desperation is suspended, set aside for a moment of admiration for this body of the underworld.

The muscled arms Hermes has found himself rather fond of are connected to an equally strong body, both skeletal and ethereal, like a darkened path lit by an eerie glow, or a warning flash through the trees. Something promising thrill, danger, mystery. Glowing violet light penetrates his body like a solid bubble of smoke, supported by the blackened skeletal frame of his body. Still, like any other body, it rises and falls beneath his palm with each breath, smoke swirling with warmth as it dances around the light inside.

The desire to see Charon under him returns, burning in his chest, and he knows for certain this thought is his own.

A single moment is all it takes for Hermes to find himself back in Charon's lap, straddling his half-covered waist as he pushes the other backward onto a bare portion of the platform. Swiftly, before the other can protest, he takes the stygian boatman's wide-brimmed hat and places it atop his own head carefully, though not before making a show of keeping it from ever touching the ground. He does this, of course, by dangling it dangerously close to the ground, enjoying the way a scowl crawls across his associate's face in response.

Unfortunately for Charon, it's difficult for Hermes to really feel threatened by the sight of the boatman laid out specifically for him, delicate hair fanning across the marble underneath and robes parted by the olympian's own hands.

Hermes starts his journey with more open-mouth kisses pressed to Charon's own, but his lips and tongue quickly find new areas to explore across the thrumming body below him. Fingers thread into the hair at the back of Hermes' head, and he looks up to see the underworld god's burning violet gaze, fixated solely on the gleaming prize in his lap. Keeping eye contact, Hermes inches downward, watching the slight quiver in the highlight against the edge of Charon's cheekbone and pressing his head into his hand.

A thumb strokes at the feathers closest to his ear, pulling a shudder out of Hermes as he reaches the robes still draped about Charon's waist. He breaks eye contact to part the fabric before him, revealing the stygian boatman's erection resting against his thigh and curved slightly towards his stomach.

With his head ducked, Hermes is sure the brim of Charon's hat hides his expression, and can feel the predatory grin prowl across his face as he looks up again. 

"All for me, Charon? I have to say I'm quite surprised...you're not really known as the generous type. This could make a big difference in your reputation."

The fingers at his neck curl the ends of his hair into a tight grip, right at the base of his skull, and the moan that pours out of Hermes' is laid directly over Charon's own rattling response. Hermes laughs. 

"Admonishing _and_ mocking me? You really do know how to keep on giving, Charon. You've got my promise though. No gossiping about company secrets outside of our private meetings..." his eyes drop to Charon's lap again, fingers crawling across his skin to find their way around his length, "...however juicy the details might be."

Charon's huff of fond amusement quickly turns into a different sound altogether once Hermes' mouth slips over the head of his cock, holding the base delicately and laving his tongue over the slit. 

Hermes eases off, ready to whip out another completely unnecessary (and therefore, deeply necessary) comment about Charon's reaction, only to find his head quickly urged back down, muffling his laughter against the side of the cthonic god's erection and the inside of his thigh. The smiling olympian apologizes with quick, messy kisses to every inch he can reach, dragging his tongue back up to the tip to take him in again.

Head bobbing between Charon's thighs, the fingers at the back of his neck tighten and readjust as he quickens his pace, his own fingers tapping and squeezing at the other's bony hips every time his lips meet the base, pushing the head of Charon's cock as deep as it can go into his waiting throat. He drools around the length filling his mouth, its girth pressing his tongue flat and stretching his lips as he swallows again and again. With hardly any need to breathe, the smaller god decides he could continue for as long as the other might need, eager to feel that pressure at the back of his throat with every thrust. He can feel his own cock pulsing between his legs, thoroughly enjoying this new perspective on the imposing ferryman of the Styx.

He pulls off of the cock again, spreading wetness along the entire length with a few pumps of his hand, dragging his tongue up from the base again just to taste. Charon's hand moves to his cheek as he looks up again, a thumb hooking deftly into the corner of his mouth. Adjusts, holding Hermes' chin gently and pressing firm on his tongue with the sharp edge of a nail. Whimpering, open-mouthed, the little bird is dragged forward effortlessly to meet Charon's mouth in another kiss, shared smoke billowing between them.

Hermes is practically shaking, wings spread and quivering, and he flies atop Charon again the moment his mouth is released. 

"Please please please tell me that means you're ready-" he pants, cheek caressing the side of Charon's angular face as he breathes in the warm smell of his silvery hair, mouth pressing to his neck. He barely waits for an answer, rising up to sit prettily before he's pulled forward by the underworld god's strong hands on his ass, pressing himself to a flawless cheek under the wrinkled chiton skirt.

On the next downward grind, Hermes already has Charon's cock slotted into the valley of his ass, pulled apart like a rare fruit in the boatman's hands. The next attempt has Charon holding him back with a hand at his hip, and the smaller god gets the idea quickly, hand whipping to guide Charon inside. 

Bracing his arm against Charon's shoulder, he's forced to ease down by the pressure of the boatman's steady hands, inch after inch of his cock pressing into the smaller god with deliberate slowness.

For this long moment, Hermes is totally silent, and his body pliant and warm in Charon's hands.

He pulls back, ready to smoothly come downward onto the boatman's deliciously large cock again, perhaps with more urgency...and is thwarted once more by the other's insistent grip and slow pace.

Hermes whines, pressing his open hands atop Charon's own as he's guided upward, then pulled back down again, still agonizingly slow in a way that makes him burn with heat, pooling deep in his stomach, cock twitching when Charon's presses in deep and seconds pass without movement. This pace continues until Hermes can take it no longer, shivering, hunched and bracing his hands on Charon's chest as he breathes quiet pleas into the violet plumes.

One of Charon's hands reaches out to stroke the smaller god's face. Hermes presses his cheek to the warm palm, lips moving across the heel of his hand and over his wrist. Held with just one hand on his hip over Charon's lap, only the tip of his cock still resting inside, Hermes obediently waits for Charon to resume the pace he'd set, unaware he's no longer really restrained. 

In one swift movement, Charon pulls Hermes' down by the hip and thrusts upward, filling him instantly. Hermes is beyond words, holding himself over Charon only with the hands braced on his chest, violet glow shining between his fingers the only thing he can focus on besides the delicious feeling of Charon, pounding into his heat at a pace and intensity he'd guessed the underworld god might have long ago, and had craved ever since.

The violet smoke under his hands swirls and sparks under the solid-feeling touch of his body. Through blurry eyes, he watches the quivering surface of the bubble pool around his hand, can feel it slowly sinking into whatever nebulous essence builds Charon's body. The boatman's groans turn louder, his thrusts a little rougher as Hermes' hand breaches the bubble. He tries to pull his hand back, to apologize for hurting him, when Charon's hand snaps to his wrist and holds him in place once again.

They trade a look. The light of Charon's eyes burn brighter than Hermes has ever seen, smoke pouring out of him in giant clouds, the room turning hazy with purple plumes. 

Understanding, Hermes pushes his hand forward instead, delighting in Charon's groan before releasing his own when the boatman's hips snap upward. His fingers get hotter and hotter as they reach closer to the burning core in Charon's chest, heat in his own body pooling lower and lower. He drags his eyes upward to catch Charon's own again, who nods.

Hermes wraps his fingers tightly around the heated core, pulsing hard in his palm.

Immediately, the tight band of heat and arousal releases, and Hermes comes, eyes squeezed right and hand still gripping the central flame. Vision blurring, he presses his head to Charon's shoulder, whining and panting out incoherently as each wave pours over him. A few moments pass before the tinny rush of air in his ears clear, and he's not sure if it's ichor or an uncontrollable flutter of his wings. 

He becomes blissfully aware that Charon has also come inside him, inner thighs shining with wetness and heat nestled within. Charon's soft breaths blow across the feathers at his crown as he begins to pull his wrist back, releasing his grip on the core and slowly removing his hand from the smoky bubble. 

When he pulls his hand away, it emerges from the bubble with nothing more than a soft ripple through the surface and smoke, and comes away without evidence of what had occurred. The same cannot be said of Charon removing himself from within Hermes, though once he pulls out, Hermes is surprised to feel two fingers enter him almost immediately, softly pushing in with long strokes. _Pushing his come back inside_ , Hermes realizes, hands gripping the larger god's shoulders and shuddering, feathers ruffling outward.

Charon slowly maneuvers them, removing his fingers and urging the disheveled Hermes to settle delicately across the obol sacks while the smaller god watches him look around them briefly, probably for something to clean up with. _So generous,_ Hermes' brain supplies, draped over a pile of the ferryman's treasure and filled with his spend.

The Olympian's blissful moment doesn't last long, once the boatman casts a long look at the red river running against the platform, then immediately turns his eyes on Hermes. Every plume on his crown and ankles puffs outward in alarm, warning signals chirping in his head. 

When he deems it necessary, Charon can be quick, too. Hands already on the body before him, he pulls Hermes close, pulling away his loosely-arranged chiton with deft fingers, then slips into the red river with hardly a splash. Hermes gasps, kicking his heels, screeching out as the cthonic god pulls him into the waters. 

Charon allows the smaller god to squawk for a moment before soothing a hand over the feathers of his ankle again, and Hermes, blush returning, steps back and stands slightly apart from his companion, chest-deep in the pool with his damp headfeathers spread. 

"Y-you!!" he finally manages to squawk out, face burning, arms crossed over his chest as if to signal offence and modesty at the same time. The statement ends there, surprisingly succinct, and lasts as long as anything resembling anger that waves over him. In the next second, he's in near-hysterics, laughing and splashing the groaning boatman with red.

"Polishing me just like the rest of your treasure, boss? You really got me with that whole 'this is a river of death and you will suffer consequences upon entering' act! I was just about ready to call your brother about an emergency pickup when you threw me in like that!"

He steps closer to Charon, quickly realizing the water level at his lower chest is just about the same as Charon's crotch, and he can just make out the shadow of his length underneath the river's surface. His headfeathers flutter again, resettling themselves as he turns back to the platform and coughs. 

"We should probably resume wearing our proper workplace attire. As much as I'd like to continue this meeting, I would like the opportunity to do so when I have more time to dedicate to our working relationship." His eyes catch Charon's as he comes into view next to him, pulling Hermes's robes from the red waters to hand to him. Though wet, they were clean and light, and would dry in no time for someone who could whip through the warm sky at such incredible speeds.

Hermes hikes himself out of the river with a little hand from the boatman, then watches the underworld god exit the pool elegantly, steps sure and steady and calm, water rolling slowly down his form, shining red and violet. 

Hermes dresses quickly.

Once dressed, curiosity gets the better of him, and Hermes' mind wanders. Looking at the piles around them, he remembers Charon was looking for something, and looks about himself casually to see if he might notice something different, crouching near another pile of riches.

Still, it doesn't help to have no idea what he's actually looking for, so he turns to look up at Charon and ask, just in time to see him pulling on the golden collar. His eyes shine bright and warm when he returns the look.

"Hrrrooouuuhhgh…"

"So, about earlier, when I first got here...I did promise you that I would help you find something. What exactly was it you were looking for, boss? I'm still happy to help."

Charon's expression quickly slips away, and Hermes can immediately taste the change in the smoke around them, reading Charon's surprise. He looks off for a moment like he might not answer, then reaches his hand forward to help Hermes up.

Before the smaller god can reach forward to take it, a colourful plume of gold and red falls elegantly into Charon's upturned palm, finally finished with its descent from the high ceiling above them.

The stygian boatman looks even more shocked, eyes trained on the feather in his palm, expression open and in perfect view of Hermes' gaze. The glow across his cheeks thickens like a coloured fog, and even Hermes can feel the heat from his face as he closes his fingers gently around the plume.

Hermes watches this unfold before him in silence, then cracks a grin up at the boatman above him. 

"Ah, I see, so you lost the feather I gave you last time? Why didn't you just say so? I told you, I'm happy to supply as many as you might need for keeping your ledger, balancing the checkbooks, writing letters for yours truly...or, you know, anything else you might need them for. They write quicker than any other quill. I have plenty, so if you need stationery, I'm your god-"

The endless stream of words is stopped by a smoky kiss to the corner of his mouth, both of them ducked under the shade and comfort of Charon's hat, and above them, another swirling plume.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to see more of my screeching about these two you can follow me @/shiverstyx on the bird app.


End file.
